


Stringing Ryan up

by alley_oops, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Sam Worthington and Ryan Kwanten [188]
Category: Actor RPF, Australian Actor RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), True Blood RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-14 19:54:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14143350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alley_oops/pseuds/alley_oops, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: This is a re-posting (archiving) of all logs for the Sam Worthington/Ryan Kwanten storyline in the BDSM RPS RPGCitadel.





	Stringing Ryan up

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-posting (archiving) of all logs for the Sam Worthington/Ryan Kwanten storyline in the BDSM RPS RPG [Citadel](http://citadel.dreamwidth.org/read).

Everything in place, Sam stands there, leaning against the door frame, watching Ryan rearranging the kitchen and wondering how long it'll take his lover to notice him. Finally he gives up with a soft chuckle and a shake of his head. "You gonna be done there soon? Sometime today?" he teases.

"Yeah... Do you like soda bread?" Ryan asks, looking up from where he's kneeling by a lower cabinet. "You know, Irish soda bread? I haven't made it in forever and I'm kind of craving some."

"Can it wait?" Sam asks, even though his stomach's voting for soda bread. "I found something really cool in one of the barns and I wanted to show you."

"Oh, yeah!" Ryan gets to his feet and takes Sam's hand with an eager smile. "Did you find owl's nests? Or bats? I guess bats don't actually make nests," he says, chattering away as he leads Sam out the door. He is so damn excited about living here. It's away from the beach, true, and that's weird for Ryan since he's lived most of his life right near the ocean. But this place is just so fucking cool, with so many new things to explore in the woods and the lake.

"You'll see..." Sam says with a grin, swinging their hands between them as they make their way across the property.

Ryan smiles and gives Sam's cheek a quick kiss. "I love it here," he says, like it's any big secret. "Like, I'd be happy to holiday here for just a few days. I still can't quite believe we get to stay for a bit. We'll watch the leaves change, might even see the first snowfall..."

"You want to see snow?" Sam says. "You realize we'll have to shovel that whole fucking drive if we do," he points out, amused.

"It's great exercise," Ryan replies, but he's looking over the impressive length of the driveway as he does it. "Yeah. I guess that would probably take all day, huh? And then I'd be too tired to fuck you afterwards."

Sam shrugs. "I'll just push you down over the table and fuck away," he says, struggling to keep a straight face.

"And then leave me there in a puddle when you're finished," Ryan replies with a grin. "At least you'd warm me up."

"There you go," Sam says with a laugh, like that was his plan the whole time. "Do you think you'd like this same sort of thing back in California or is it all about the weather?"

"Nah, I just love this. I mean, look at this place," Ryan muses, tipping his head back to check if he can actually see the treetops. "Do we even _have_ any neighbors?" He shoots Sam a sly look. "We might never have sex indoors again."

Sam laughs. "If it fucking snows, we're having sex indoors," he tells his boy then nods ahead at the barn. "Go ahead. Go see."

"Yeah?" Ryan's quicksilver grin flashes again, and he ducks into the barn. It takes a couple seconds for his eyes to fully adjust to the dim light, and then he moans. Sam has clearly been busy. A thick white rope is looped over one of the wooden support rafters, a sturdy steel hook attached. A pair of leather cuffs wait invitingly in the thick layer of hay beneath. "Ohhh," he breathes, his jeans suddenly too tight for his body.

"You're not disappointed, are you?" Sam asks, coming up behind him. "It's not exactly bats or owls."

"No, Sir," Ryan whispers, and looks over his shoulder. "May I undress?" Hope is clear in his eyes; he adores it when Sam surprises him.

Sam nods. "Go ahead, boy."

Ryan grins and quickly strips off his shirt. He has to sit down in the hay to get his shoes off, but it's swiftly done and then he's back on his feet and shoving his jeans down his legs. Naked, he turns to face his sir, and his cock swells to full hardness.

Sam shakes his head in wonder. "You are so fucking gorgeous," he murmurs, backing his boy up under the ropes.

Fuck, when Sam looks at him like that? Ryan feels like the sexiest thing in the world. "I love you, Sir," he whispers, and holds out his hands in front of him.

"I love you too," Sam says, leaning down to scoop up the cuffs, slowly unbuckling each one before fastening them again around Ryan's wrists. "How's that?" he asks. "You're going to be hanging for a while."

"If my fingers turn blue, then you'll know I've had enough," Ryan cracks. He smiles at Sam, already teetering on the peak of that slippery slope. "You know I trust you completely, Sir."

"Good boy," Sam says with a grin, leaning in to kiss Ryan, softly on the lips, before raising his hands over his head and hooking the cuffs to the large steel hook above. A soft groan spilling from his lips at how fucking right he got it, his boy's feet just barely touching the floor.

Ryan whimpers, taking a moment and letting his full body weight dangle from the cuffs before he pushes back up onto the balls of his feet. Fuck, he'll be sore tomorrow, and he'll have to amend some of the more vigorous poses from his usual yoga routine. He's got no doubt what's coming will be worth it.

Sam takes a minute to just watch Ryan, his jeans growing tighter at the sight. And then he slides his belt free, doubling it, the buckle tucked into his palm.

_Oh. Fuck._ Ryan's mouth goes dry in an instant. Fear chills him at the same time that a rush of excitement bursts through his veins. "Please," he whispers, then licks his lips and tries again, a little louder. "Please."

Sam nods. "Good boy," he murmurs, bringing the belt in against Ryan's cock in the next instant.

Ryan shouts, the shock nearly as great as the pain. He definitely wasn't expecting Sam to just start with his cock like that, and it was no kind of warm-up strike, either. It takes a moment for him to gather his wits back together. "Thank you, Sir," he gasps.

"You really are a good boy, aren't you?" Sam murmurs, moving behind Ryan, trailing the leather belt over and around his hip as he does before popping him on the ass.

"I..." Ryan hisses at the sudden fire streaking over his ass. "Yes, Sir," he manages to get out, forcing himself still once more. "I think so, Sir. Your boy tries."

"I know he does," Sam says with a nod. "Give me a number," he orders. "Scale of one to ten." Popping Ryan on the ass again. Harder than the last.

_A number???_ That could mean anything. A total of strikes, a degree of harshness... Ryan doesn't know where to start. "Seven," he answers, hoping he won't regret it.

Sam nods. "Keep count for me," he tells Ryan, bringing the belt in against his ass, one cheek and then the other, in a nice steady rhythm.

Ryan grinds his teeth into his bottom lip, trying so fucking hard to keep the yelps in. But he has to speak to count each strike, anyway, and soon it doesn't even matter how hard he tries. "Five," he gasps, his shoulders already on fire from the dead weight of his body each instant he attempts to recover. "Six, Sir!"

Sam switches to Ryan's shoulders, working them over thoroughly, his mind keeping track as Ryan counts. Verifying the number.

He instinctively tries to jerk away, tries to protect himself, but of course in the next instant gravity has Ryan right back where he was and struggling to keep his toes on the floor. His eyes are already wet with tears; it doesn't take long when Sam starts right in like this, without a warm-up. There's no gradual build-up of pain -- it's like being shoved straight into the fire. Ryan is still struggling to catch up. "Eight!" he sobs.

Ryan's shoulders turned fire-engine red, Sam goes back to his ass, laying into him with the leather, watching as the skin turns brighter and brighter before darkening as the bruises start to form.

And ohhh, fuck. Ryan no longer has the mental capacity to wonder about Sam's plans. He's starting to sink down, finally, his mind fogging up to the point that each harsh strike registers only as a sharp blast of pain that's then quickly enshrouded in a red mist. He thinks he's still shouting with the blows, but he can't be certain he's not only hearing the sounds inside his head.

Sam contemplates stopping, making Ryan pick back up with his count, but the sight of his boy, so fucking far under, stops that thought dead in its tracks. He does pause though, switching the belt between hands before rubbing the right one over Ryan's cheeks, fingers teasing between them.

Wriggling, Ryan whimpers and blindly tries to twist into that tease of a touch. It fires up his lust in an instant, yanking his attention away from the pain to his need.

"You're not only a good boy," Sam murmurs, grabbing a handful of cheek and digging his nails in. "You're also a filthy little slut, aren't you?"

Ryan's answer to that is a wordless moan. He yanks against his cuffs, but gets absolutely nowhere. Sam's body heat behind him is nearly palpable and he wants to get closer.

"Next time I get you up here, I'm gonna shove my fist up your ass," Sam murmurs, going back and forth between cheeks, grabbing and twisting the reddened skin, the moans Ryan's making only spurring him on. "Make you take me clear to my fucking shoulder."

A few key words slowly filter through Ryan's haze. He jerks against the bonds, struggling. "Please," he gasps, summoning up will enough to push the word past his lips. 

Sam shakes his head. "Not this time, boy." Two fingers pushed roughly into Ryan's ass. "This time I have other plans."

Ryan howls at the harsh burn. But in the next second he's trying to fuck himself down onto Sam's fingers and greedily take more.

"You want more than that, boy?" Sam teases, holding his fingers still, watching Ryan strain against them.

It's all Ryan can do just to manage a fucking whimper. But Sam's touch is _so close_ to actually satisfying, and it yanks him out of his pain-soaked daze, driving him on with lust.

Sam works a third finger into his boy's hole and reaches around with the belt, slapping Ryan's cock this time.

That fucking does it. Ryan howls and his climax explodes through him, whiting out his vision. He knows there's something wrong, doesn't feel quite right, but god he can't help it. He shudders in the wake, hanging heavily in his bonds and gasping for breath.

"You dirty little slut," Sam says, pulling his fingers from Ryan's ass and dropping the belt. "Did I say you could come?" He grabs Ryan's hair and pulls his head back, demanding, "Did I?"

"N-- no, Sir," Ryan stammers, desperately trying to grab hold of something - anything - solid enough to anchor him in this turbulent moment. Of course, he can't. "Please."

"Please what, boy?" Sam growls, slapping Ryan's cock with the flat of his hand.

_Please what?_ Ryan honestly has no fucking clue; he was just falling back on habit, and it seemed like something to beg for. He cries out at the vicious new wash of pain, and his own voice sounds strangely distant. "Please... please forgive your boy, Sir."

"I don't think so, boy. Not that fucking easily," Sam says, shaking his head. He lets go of Ryan's hair and moves in front of his boy, toeing out of his shoes before pulling his shirt over his head and dropping his jeans to the ground, his cock jutting sharply from his body.

A chill rushes through Ryan and he whimpers again, genuine unease trickling down his spine. "Please," he whispers again. "Please, Sir. Let me..." His gaze moves over Sam's erection and it's all he can do not to whine. "Please use your boy. Use me up."

"After you've come without permission?" Sam says, wrapping his hand around Ryan's cock and stroking slowly. "What makes you think you deserve my cock in your ass?"

_Shit_. "Nothing," Ryan gasps. "Nothing, Sir!" Oh god, Sam's touch _hurts_ , forcing stimulation on him when every cell of his body wants to just shut down. He bucks once into his sir's hand with a moan. "I'm sorry, Sir!"

"I know you are, but that's not good enough," Sam says casually, knowing he's pressing every fucking button by doing this. His hand growing more demanding, his grip tighter, his strokes firmer, brutally working Ryan's cock which is struggling to soften.

A strange keening noise falls from Ryan's lips and he tries to get closer, tries to get away, his mind so fucking muddy at this point. But there's no way he can _not_ respond to Sam, and he whines once more at the pain of his cock swelling again already.

"You're gonna come for me, aren't you, boy? Again. This time with permission," Sam says, tugging at Ryan's P.A. now.

Sweat beads on Ryan's taut-strung muscles. He shivers, cold and so fucking overwhelmed. And when Sam yanks his piercing, he explodes for the second time. Howling to the rafters of the barn.

"Good boy. That's better. But you still need to give me one more," Sam tells him, using the come coating his hand to slick his own cock.

Fresh tears spill over Ryan's cheeks and a sob escapes him. This is _hell_ , and he can't quite recall what he did to earn it. 

Sam moves behind Ryan. Lines up and pushes slowly in, steadily _taking_ , one inch after another until he's buried balls-fucking-deep in his boy. His hands sliding over his lover's stomach, up to his chest, over those rings in his nipples, fingers teasing at them, promising still more torment.

Ryan moans brokenly and drops his head back to rest on Sam's shoulder. Strung up like he is right now, it's the closest thing to an embrace he can manage. And fuck, _this_ , the familiar feeling of his sir's cock filling him -- at least it's something completely right.

"You're such a slut for this, aren't you?" Sam murmurs, lips brushing over the side of Ryan's neck as he pulls out and slides back in again. "Having my cock in your fucking greedy hole."

"Yes, Sir," Ryan gasps. It's the only right answer under the sun. He moves with Sam, letting himself be pushed, pulled back onto his lover's cock. "Please."

"Please what?" Sam murmurs, licking Ryan's throat. "You want to come for me again, boy?" he asks, twisting Ryan's nipple rings. "Want me to fill this wide open cunt of yours?"

Ryan cries out wordlessly, pleasure shocking through his exhausted body. "C--" he gasps, but can't quite manage anything more. But it's not enough, he knows his sir will demand more than that... _Fuck_. "In me," he breathes, finally.

"Only if you come for me first," Sam demands, dropping one hand to Ryan's cock, fingers closing around it, stroking roughly, matching his thrusts. "Pull me over, boy. You want it, you _make_ me come."

There's no fucking way. Ryan howls and his body jerks, trying to retreat from that punishing caress. But there simply is no retreat. He shakes his head, a meaningless babble spilling from his lips.

"C'mon," Sam growls softly, teeth grazing the soft skin of Ryan's throat, one hand harshly working his cock while the other yanks at his nipple rings. Slamming into him so hard he almost lifts his lover off his feet. "Fucking come for me, boy."

Ryan's mind is a blind wash of _Nononono!_ panic, but it's disconnected. Ryan's body, however, simply can't withstand his sir's all-out assault. He screams and cries and is barely aware of either, doesn't even notice the way his cock spurts weakly yet one more time. There's just fatigue and cold and an overwhelming heaviness.

Fingers slick with Ryan's seed, Sam shouts in triumph, his orgasm slamming through him, cock spurting hotly, pulsing again and again as he fills his boy's hole.

Vaguely, Ryan is relieved when the meaning of that searing rush inside him registers. Mostly, though, he's just blank, so caught up in somatic agony that there's really nothing left over to power his brain. He just _hurts_ , and he's cold, and he couldn't put two sensible words together right now if he tried.

Easing out, Sam stays close, body pressed to Ryan's as he unfastens the cuffs from the hook in the ceiling and gets Ryan over to the sleeping bag he'd put out earlier, a blanket pulled over him before he starts working on the cuffs, carefully removing them from his wrists and checking for injuries. "Here, take a sip," he orders, opening a bottle of water and placing a bent straw to Ryan's lips. 

The sound Ryan makes in response isn't even a mumble; it's more of a grunt. His eyelids feel like they're glued shut, and the muscle fibers in his shoulders seem to be slow-motion screaming, in tiny insectile fascicular shrieks. Gravity. It's so damn good.

"Drink," Sam orders, waiting until Ryan does before he sets the bottle aside and slips into the sleeping bag with him, the zipper done up behind him as far as he can get it and the blanket spread over top and a pillow plumped under Ryan's head. "Love you, boy," he whispers, kissing Ryan's temple as he gently tugs him in close. "My good boy."

"Mmm." Ryan lets himself be pulled; he doesn't feel like he's got any control over his own body right now anyway. But Sam's scent is familiar, and his warmth surrounds Ryan, and he can finally relax. It's everything Ryan needs.


End file.
